A man in all the world's new fashion planted,
That hath a mint of phrafes in his brain;
One, whom the mufic of his own vain tongue
Doth ravish, like inchanting harmony;
A man of compliments, whom right and wrong
Have chofe as umpire of their mutiny.

Love's Labour Loft, A. 1. Sc. 1.

CONFUSION OF MIND.
You have bereft me of all words,

Only my blood fpeaks to you in my veins;
And there is fuch confufion in my pow'rs,
As, after fome oration fairly fpoke
By a beloved prince, there doth appear
Among the buzzing, pleafed multitude;
Where every fomething, being blent together,
Turns to a wild of nothing, fave of joy
Exprest and not expreft,

The Merchant of Venice, A. 3. Sc. 2.

CONJUROR.

They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-fac'd villain,
A mere anatomy, a mountebank,

A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller,
A needy, hollow-ey'd, fharp-looking wretch,
A living dead man. This pernicious flave,
Forfooth, took on him as a conjuror ;
And, gazing in my eyes, feeling my pulfe,
And with no face, as 'twere, outfacing me,
Cries out I was poffeft.

The Comedy of Errors, A. 5.

CONSCI ENCE.
O, it is monstrous! monftrous!
Methought the billows fpoke, and told me
of it;
The winds did fing it to me; and the thunder,
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd
The name of Profper: it did bafe my trefpafs.
Therefore fon i'th'ooze is bedded.

my

The Tempeft, A. 3. Sc. 3.

What ftronger breaft-plate than a heart untainted?
Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel juft;

And

And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel,,
Whose conscience with injuftice is corrupted.

Henry VI. Part II. A. 3. Sc. 3.

-Confcience! I'll not meddle with it. It is a dangerous thing; it makes a man a coward: a man cannot fteal, but it accufeth him; a man cannot fwear, but it checks him; a man, cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it detects him.-'Tis a blushing fhame-faced fpirit, that mutinies in a man's bofom; it fills one full of obftacles; it made me once restore a purfe of gold that by chance I found; it beggars any man that keeps it; it is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man that means to live well endeavours to truft to himfelf, and live without it.

Richard III. A. 1. Sc. 4.

Give me another horfe! bind up my wounds!
Have mercy, Jefu! Soft; I did but dream.
O coward Confcience how doft thou afflict me?
The light burns blue-Is it not dead midnight?
Cold, fearful drops ftand on my trembling flesh.
What do I fear myself there's none else by:
Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I.

Is there

murderer here? No.-Yes, I am : Then fly-what! from myfelf?Great reafon-Why? Left I revenge-What? Myfelf on myfelf? I love myself Wherefore? For any good That I myself have done unto myfelf? O! no.-Alas! I rather hate myself For hateful deeds committed by myself. I am a villain.-Yet, I lie; I am not : Fool, of thyfelf fpeak well.-Fool, do not flatter. My confcience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a feveral tale And every tale condemns me for a villain! Perjury-perjury, in the highest degreeMurder-ftern murder, in the direft degreeAll feveral fins all ufed in each degreeThrong to the bar, crying all,-Guilty! guiltyI fhall despair,-There is no creature loves me;

;

Aad,

And, if I die, no foul fhall pity me.

Nay, wherefore should they? fince that I myself
Find in myself no pity to myself.

Ibid. A. 5. Sc. 3.

O, my offence is rank; it smells to heaven
It hath the primal, eldeft curfe upon't:
A brother's murder! Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as fharp as will;
My ftronger guilt defeats my ftrong intent:
And, like a man to double business bound,
I ftand in paufe, where I fhall first begin;
And both neglect. What if this curfed hand`
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood?
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as fnow? Whereto ferves mercy,
But to confront the vifage of offence?

And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force,
To be foreftalled, ere we come to fall,

Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is paft. But, oh! what form of prayer
Can ferve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder
That cannot be; fince I am still poffefs'd

Of those effects for which I did the murder:
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
May one be pardoned, and retain the offence?
In the corrupted currents of this world,
Offence's gilded hand may fhove by justice;
And oft 'tis feen the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law. But 'tis not so above:
There is no fhuffling-there the action lies
In his true nature; and we ourselves compelled,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then ?-What refts?
Try what repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
O, wretched ftate! O bofom, black as death!
O, limed foul! that, ftruggling to be free,
Art more engaged! Help, angels! make affay!
Bow, ftubborn knees! and heart with ftrings of fteel!
Be foft as finews of the new-born babe-
All may be well.

Hamlet, A. 3. Sc. 3.

CON

CONSCIENCE STRUGGLING.

The colour of the king doth come and go,
Between his purpofe and his confcience,
Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles fent :
His paffion is fo ripe it needs must break.

King Jobn, A. 4. Sc. 2.

CONSENT OF A FATHER.
-Methinks a father

Is, at the nuptial of his fon, a guest

That beft becomes the table: pray you, once more,
Is not your father grown incapable

Of reasonable affairs? Is he not stupid

With age and alt'ning rheums? Can he fpeak? hear? Know man from man? difpute his own estate?

Lies he not bed-rid? And, again, does nothing,

But what he did being childish?

The Winter's Tale, A. 2. Sc.

CONSTANCY.

I would have thee there, and here again,

Ere I can tell thee what thou should't do there.
O conftancy, be strong upon my fide!

Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue!
I have a man's mind, but a woman's might.
How hard it is for women to keep counsel!

4.

Julius Cæfar, A. 2. Sc. 4.

O, good lago ..

What shall I do to win my lord again?

Good friend, go to him; for by this light of heaven,
I know not how I loft him.-Here I kneel:

If e'er my will did trefpafs 'gainft his love,

Either in difcourfe, or thought, or actual deed;
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any fense,
Delighted them in any other form;
Or that I do not yet, and ever did,
And ever will, though he do fhake me off
To beggarly divorcement,-love him dearly,
Comfort forfwear me! Unkindness may do much ;
And his unkindness inay defeat my life,
But never taint my love. I cannot fay-Whore ;
It does abhor me, now I fpeak the word;

To

To do the act that might the addition earn,
Not the world's mass of vanity could make me.

Othello, A. 4. Sc. 2.

CONTENT.

Verily,

I fear, 'tis better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content,
Than to be perk'd up in a glistening grief,
And wear a golden forrow.

Henry VIII. A. 2. Sc.

A goodly day not to keep houfe, with fuch

Whofe roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys, this gate
Inftructs you how to adore the heavens; and bows you
To morning's holy office: the gates of monarchs
Are arch'd fo high, that giants may jet through
And keep their impious turbans on, without
Good-morrow to the fun-Hail, thou fair heaven!
We house i'the rock, yet ufe thee not fo hardly
As prouder livers do.

Now for our mountain fport.-Up to yon hill,
Your legs are young; I'll tread thefe flats: confider,
When you above perceive me like a crow,
That it is place which leffens and sets off.

3.

And you may there revolve what tales I have told you
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war:
This fervice is not fervice; fo being done,
But being fo allowed: to apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we see :
And often to our comfort shall we find
The fharded beetle in a fafer hold
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life
Is nobler than attending for a check,
Richer than doing nothing for a babe
Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for filk:
Such gain the cap of him that makes them fine,
Yet keeps his book uncrofs'd:-No life to ours!
Did you but know the cities ufuries,

;

And felt them knowingly; the art o'the court,
As hard to leave as keep; whofe top to climb
Is certain falling, or fo flippery, that

The